


Pain Is in the Mind - An Avenger's Story

by ijudgelove



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 13:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15244188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijudgelove/pseuds/ijudgelove
Summary: Lorelei is just like any other superhero, except she's not. She uses her powers of mind control to her and only her advantage, and only cares about saving herself. She's able to control her own mind and others, and can push back any negative emotions of fear, hate, or sadness. To Tony Stark, the extent of her powers, and how they work, is something he can only hope to understand - but is determined to, regardless of the cost. To Bucky, he couldn't care less how powerful Lorelei was. He only wants to understand her past, and to figure out what made her so afraid to feel emotion, and what turned her heart into stone at such a young age. As for Lorelei, she continues to fight with herself; why does she feel empty, even though she's pushed all of her emotions away? Why is there a part of her that still longs to feel the emotions of her past, even though they were painful and terrifying? Why does she still want to feel anything at all, when, without her emotions, she can be the most powerful being on earth?





	Pain Is in the Mind - An Avenger's Story

**Author's Note:**

> This story is gonna be a biggie

**July 14, 2005**

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
  
    "I'm trying to make you stronger, Lorelei."  
  
     _Click._  
  
    "I want to help you."  
  
     _Click._  
  
    "Turn the pain back on me. Make me feel the pain."  
  
     _Click._  
  
    "Get revenge for what I'm doing to you."  
  
    Moving my jaw helps distract myself from the pain. I grind my teeth, click them together, bite my tongue... anything to avoid this searing, scraping, burning, blinding pain in my mind. I could hear Momma's fingernails tapping the table in front of me.   
  
    "Don't just sit there and take it, Lorelei! Fight back!"  
  
     _Click click click click click-  
  
    _ "Stop clicking your teeth. Don't avoid it."  
  
    I stopped, now unable to divert the pain in my head. It was excruciating, as if holes were being drilled into my brain. It was getting worse by the second. I could feel tears burning against my eyes, threatening to fall any minute.   
  
     _Control the pain, move the pain...  
      
    _ Suddenly, it stopped. The torture washes out of my head, like water rushing from a river. I gasp in relief, but only to start crying. Before, when there was pain, I didn't have the concentration to cry. Now, all of the tension that had accumulated over the past hour was releasing itself through tears.   
  
    I opened my eyes. Momma was glaring at me... she's mad again. I failed again. It was the same as always. The only thing that had developed over time was my ability to not scream in pain. But that was far from what Momma wanted; the power to control the pain, not to ignore it.   
  
    She sighs through her nostrils. "How long..." she says, her eyes now closed, "... how long is it gonna take you to learn? How long are you gonna waste our time?"  
  
    I didn't answer. I knew she didn't want me to answer. But, in all honesty, I didn't know the answer. I was just as frustrated and angry with myself as she was. We had been working for  _eight years_  to try and implement mind control in my head; I was fourteen. My older brothers, Jessie and Peter, were able to use their powers when they were four. It was quite the opposite of me: Momma was teaching me to  _use_  it, while she had to teach them to tone it down. I kept asking myself the same things, day after day. What was wrong with me? Was I mentally different from the rest of my family? Or was I just stupid? Did I even have the ability to use mind control at all?  
  
    Momma stood up from the table, muttering to herself. I stared at my hands in my lap, listening to her pour herself a drink of whiskey. I remembered, a few years back, when Jessie and I were younger and more careless, I had dared him to take a large gulp of the alcohol. He accepted the dare, as his pride was too great to turn anything down; but once he took that swig, it was like watching a dragon choke on it's own fiery breath. He started coughing and crying hysterically, and I couldn't help but laugh. His face had turned so red, and so had mine. That was probably the hardest I had ever laughed in my life.  
  
    "Stop smiling." Momma ordered.  
  
    I looked up at her, hearing the harshness in her voice, and dropped the grin hanging from my face. She was staring at me with anger, swirling the whiskey in her cup. I could feel the fury seeping from her brain into mine. She scowled and looked away, taking a sip of the whiskey.  
  
    "You're too emotional." She commented. "You got too many emotions running through your head, it's no wonder you can't control anything."   
  
    I looked back at my hands; they were soft, almost feathery. Much unlike the rest of my family's hands. Because I didn't do nearly as much as they did. Which made me even more pathetic.  
  
     _Click click click click-  
  
    _ "Dammit, Lorelei! Stop clicking your teeth!" Momma's voice was raised now. "You gotta stop avoiding things."  
  
     _That's what I'm best at._ I thought.  _Avoiding problems, thinking about random things to steer away from the pain, clicking my teeth to distract myself from physical pain. If I can't control it, I just avoid it.  
  
    _ "Don't think like that, you know you've got it in you. You can control minds just as much as the rest of us." Momma said, taking another swig of her whiskey. She was reading my mind again; one of the side effects of her powers which I didn't particularly like.   
  
    But, in all honesty, I knew I wasn't like them. It had been so long since she started 'training' me, and we were still waiting on a result. Why couldn't she just accept that? Why was it so awful that I didn't have what she has? Why couldn't anyone just accept me for the normal human being that I was? It was exhausting to go through this training every day, not to mention painful. And we both knew it wasn't doing anything. So why did we keep doing it?   
  
    I decided to voice my questions. "Momma- "  
  
    "Don't give me that crap, I won't hear it!" she slammed her drink on the table. I jumped, quivering at the intensity of her anger.  
  
    "I know you can do it!" She continued. "If I can, and both of your brothers can, then so can you! I can't figure out why the hell it's taking so long for you to learn, but I know you've got the juice for it! It's in there somewhere."   
  
    Hearing her say this made me frustrated and tired. "Momma, you know that's not true! You've known that for the past seven years! I can't do it, I'm not like you. I'm just a simple person with nothing better than my dusty brain. Why can't you see that? Why can't you understand that I'm no more than that!"  
  
    I paused, giving myself a chance to breathe. Tears were flowing heavily from my eyes, and my hands were now balled into fists. I wanted to run upstairs and hide in my room. I wanted to cry for hours and not have to worry about the next day's training session. I wanted... I wanted a change. A change of routine, a change of emotion, any kind of change.  
  
    "I'm tired." I said, my voice shaking. "I'm just so tired, and it's not the tired when I'm sleepy, or even when I'm annoyed at something. It's different. I'm tired of something I can't see, I can't figure out what it is... but I need and end to it. Sleep don't do it for me. I need something stronger."  
  
    Momma sat next to me at the table, and I could feel the slight concern flowing from her head and into mine. "What do you mean, Lorelei? Help me understand."  
  
    I wiped my eyes on the back of my sleeves, which only made me cry harder. "I don't know. I don't understand it. All I can say is that somethin' is happening to me. It's wearing me out, but not physically. Like it's wearing out my soul. And I can't figure out how to get rid of it. I've tried sleeping it off, that didn't work. I've even had Peter try and push the stress outta my head, that still didn't help. It's somethin' invisible to me, and it's always nagging at the back of my mind. And I need an end to it. Y'know, how sleep ends tiredness? How eating ends hunger? Somethin' like that. But I don't know what it is. All I can say is I need an end to it, and it has to be a big one."  
  
    We both sat in silence after that. I could tell Momma was searching my mind, trying to figure out what I was talking about. But if I didn't know, then neither could she. And she hated that, when she couldn't read my mind. Her face clearly showed the frustration when she searched my eyes, coming up empty for any answers. A part of me hoped that she would find something, just to get rid of the nagging feeling. However, another part of me wished that she wouldn't let herself in and out of my mind so freely.    
  
    "If it turns out that I can't do nothin'," I say, quivering, "no mind control or anything... would you have wished I'd never been born?"  
  
    At those words, Momma's eyes widen. "Baby, of course not! Where'd you get such a horrific idea?" She gently held the sides of my arms and stared into my eyes.  
  
    I choked on my tears. "I just seem to cause so much trouble to you, and you and Peter and Jess are always doin' the hard work. You'd probably have a simpler life if I was either able to control my emotions, or if I didn't exist."  
  
    "Oh, honey..." she wrapped me in a tight hug. "Don't think that way. I love you. I want you to be able to protect yourself. There are so many bad people out there who would want you dead, and I just- " she paused, holding back a sob. "I want you to live a good, long life. I can't stand to see you walk into the outside world unprepared. That's why I'm so hard on you. I don't want to see you get hurt."  
  
    She pulled back, looking me in the eyes again. "Powers or no powers, you are my child. You are my only daughter. You are a piece of me that I'll always need. And if anything were ever to happen to you, I wouldn't be the same as I am now. I would be so lost, Lorelei. I wouldn't know what to do with myself, knowin' that somethin' terrible had happened to you. You understand that?"  
  
    Hearing her words made tears flow from my eyes. I hugged her back tightly, pressing my head against her chest. "I love you too, Momma." I said; and it was true. She could be mean, she did hurt me, and she wasn't always the best at being a mother. But everything she did was to help me, to protect me. I knew that, even when she got mad, she loved me. And I loved her just as much, if not more. I knew that if anything would ever happen to her, if she was ever taken away from me, I would also fall apart.   
  
    She sighed and ruffled my hair. "Let's not dwell on this too long, I gotta start supper." She kissed my forehead and pulled away. "Go wash up and get the boys ready too."  
  
    I nodded and inhaled deeply, capturing the scent of her cheap, yet comforting, perfume. I turned to run upstairs.  
  
    "Oh, and Lorelei?"  
  
    I turned back to face her. She was putting on her apron, a smile spreading across her face. "Could you draw another picture of me? You're so good at it, and I'm afraid I don't have enough of your drawings."  
      
    Smiling, I nodded. "'Course, Momma." Then I turned to dash up the stairs.  
  
    The content feeling I had moments ago washed away as soon as I walked into my room I shared with my brothers. Jessie was carving something into a thick piece of wood, muttering to himself. I stopped in the doorway, watching him slowly sculpt away at the wood. Hopefully, he hadn't heard anything Momma and I had said downstairs; but, giving that he was very nosy and invasive, I doubted it. He may have had a small brain, but he had the largest ears anyone had ever seen in Yukon. Slowly and quietly, I tried to move to my side of the room unnoticed, praying that he would just ignore me this time.  
  
    "Anything happen?" he asked.  
  
    I sighed, and refused to answer. That was my only defense against his teasing.  _Again, avoiding the problem._  I didn't care, though. I searched around my mattress on the floor for my drawing supplies. "Jess, did you see my pencils? Not the colored ones, just the sketchin' ones."  
  
    He scoffed. "So nothin', I guess."  
  
    "Do you have to say somethin' every damn time?" I snapped. "Momma says I'll get it, it just takes a while."  
  
    "Yeah, probably 'cause you got bricks for brains."  
  
     _Says the one who's too dumb for school..._ I thought. Problem is, he can read my thoughts.   
  
    "Shut up!" he shouted. "You know that ain't true! Momma just don't have the money for it!"  
  
    "I never said nothin', and that's only half the reason." I replied. "She told me that you ain't got good English, 'cause you're  _stupid_." I taunted him, emphasizing the word 'stupid' and sneering at him.  
  
    "I said  _shut it!_ " He screamed.  
  
    A white flash blinded me, and my head was filled with a searing pain. I cried out and covered my ears, desperately trying to drown out the feeling. "Jessie stop!!" I shouted, tears welling up in my eyes.  
  
    Almost instantly, the pain vanished. I crumpled to the ground and began to cry; even though he had stopped, the memory of the torment was all to vivid. My brain was still screaming in agony from the previous moments.  
  
     _Smack!  
  
    _ Startled by the sound, I opened my eyes to find my older brother, Peter, standing between me and Jessie.   
  
    "Stop it." Peter said, his stance tense. "Both of you. You can't go one day without fightin' like pack animals!"   
  
    "You heard what she said!" Jessie said angrily. "She said I was stupid, you heard her!"  
  
    "Yeah, I heard her." Peter said, now facing me. "And while that may be true, you shouldn't have said it, Lori."  
  
    I snickered; Peter never had a filter on his words, and I loved that.   
  
    "Shut it!!" Jessie spat at me, and another searing image of pain blinded me.   
  
    "HEY!!" Peter shouted again, smacking Jessie a second time, and the pain vanished from my mind almost instantaneously. "I said knock it off!"  
  
    Jessie glared at Peter hatefully, then stormed off downstairs. I watched him go, feeling relief wash over me.  _Ass._ I thought, knowing he could hear me.  
  
    I crawled over to the mattress I shared with Peter, pulling out my sketchbook from underneath. Flipping through the pages, I let the drawings of my family, my home, and multiple quiet, serene landscapes jump to life in my head. I wasn't good at mind control, like the rest of my family was; but momma would tell me I was the best artist in Yukon. She would say, "I've never seen a finer line in all of Oklahoma than the ones you make." I smiled, remembering how she would trace the marks with her finger, almost as if she was trying to absorb the emotion in my sketches.   
  
    "No luck?"  
  
    I turned to Peter, who sad beside me on the mattress. His face was solemn, though he smiled. His clothes were stained with motor oil and grease, probably from working on the car, and he smelled like sweat. He had asked the same question Jessie had, but I knew he was truly concerned about my progress on my powers, whereas Jessie just wanted to tease.  
  
    I sighed, turning back to my sketchbook. "Peter, you know the answer to that."   
  
    Peter clicked his tongue in understanding. He couldn't think of anything to say, I could tell. We've had this conversation so many times that it's pointless to repeat it.  
  
    "It's difficult." he stated. "Even now, it's difficult to control certain things. When I get angry, my emotions get the best of me, and I don't get time to stop them; like with Jessie. When I saw what he was doin' to you I couldn't stop the anger in my blood."   
  
    "Yeah, but you can still control some things, at least."   
  
    "Try to remember..." he said, putting an arm around my shoulder, "... if you can make yourself feel nothin', your mind can be open to everythin'. Blockin' out emotion leaves room for so much more. You can do anythin' you want, be whoever you want to be. You're detached, free from anythin' holdin' you back."   
  
    I wiped my eyes on the back of my hands. "But aren't you ever afraid that you'll lose yourself? What if, one day, you take away the emotion you're feelin', and you never get it back?"  
  
    "What's wrong with that?" he asked. "Then you ain't even have to worry about holdin' your emotions back, because they ain't even there."  
  
    "I dunno," I folded my knees and placed my head in my hands. "I just don't wanna get lost in my own head."  
  
    "Don't think about it as gettin' lost," Peter said, "think of it as expandin' your mind. For your emotions, you have room here..." he tapped the back of my head, "... and for when you want to stay away from those emotions, you have room up here." He tapped the front of my head. "Also, imagine: what're some of the things you could do once you're able to control your and others' emotions?"  
  
    Dumbfounded, I searched for an answer. "Uh... I could... I could help people calm down?"  
  
    He nodded, but was still unsatisfied with my answer. "Ok, what else?"  
  
    "Er..."  _What else?_ "I could help people remember things they'd forgotten... like memories, I could look for memories inside their head that they'd maybe forgotten."  
  
    "Right." Peter said. "But, try to think of what you can do for yourself."  
  
    Again, I didn't have an answer. "What would I use it on myself for? I ain't got no reason to, other than makin' myself shut up."  
  
    Peter chuckled. "That's a good start. Until you get it, just think of what you would do if you were able to."  
  
     I continue to stare at my drawing of Momma: she's sitting at the table, reading a book and sipping a cup of coffee. One of the few moments that I caught her in such a serene state.   
  
    Suddenly, the drawing came to life; she slowly turned the page and took a drink of the coffee, now steaming. I smiled even more as I watched the image move, following it closely with my eyes. Turning the page, I came across another drawing; this time, it was Jessie and Peter working on the truck. They moved here and there, fixing the engine and wiping the sweat off of their brows. I couldn't help but chuckle when I saw Jessie's strawberry-blonde hair now dark with engine grease.   
  
    As I noticed my spirits being lifted substantially, I rolled my eyes. "Peter, you don't need to do that. I feel much better already."  
  
    He chuckled, and returned my mind to its own use. "Well, I'm glad. You should know that those sketches don't just make you happy, they make me happy too."  
  
    "You want another one?" I asked. "Momma's already asked for one, but I can make you one too."  
  
    "Sure, that'd be fine. Could you color this one though?"  
  
    "For a dollar, sure."  
  
    "How 'bout I buy you a pop next time we go into town?"  
  
    "Deal!" I said firmly, and we shook hands.  
      
    "Alright, now go wash up; see if Momma needs any help with supper."  
  
    I quickly hopped off the mattress, heading to the restroom wash myself up, sending Peter a quick smile. He nodded in response, and then I turned and left the room.  
  
  


\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
  
    After supper, Momma had sat down in front of the television, where she would usually stay until she went off to bed at ten. Peter was fast asleep on the mattress, changed into his old sweatpants and an old sweater he always wore. I was sitting against the wall, drawing a picture of Momma; she was kneeling outside in the garden, picking the tulips to be set on the dinner table. Her face was calm, and I even added a smile to it. Though, she most likely wouldn't have been smiling. She would have looked solemn, too caught up in her work to smile.  
  
    I hear Jessie walk into the room, dragging me out of my thoughts. His eyes were glazed over with sleep; his strawberry locks, which were usually curly, were matted down from him brushing them out. He had on a pair of black sweats and a grey tank, his typical sleepwear. I turned back to my sketchbook, not wanting to be bothered by him.  
  
    "Lorelei..." he said, making his way over to where I sat. I continued to ignore him and kept drawing.   
  
    He sighed. "Lorelei, I want to say I'm sorry."  
  
    I looked at him. "What for? For goin' through my head with that stupid mind crap thing? You know, that really does hurt, Jess. It really does."  
  
    "Can you please not make this any harder than it has to be?" he said in an annoyed tone.  
  
    I groaned.  _Like apologies are supposed to be easy...  
  
    _ Jessie continued. "I'm sorry for hurtin' you. And I'm sorry for tellin' you to shut it." He stared at the ground while saying everything.  
  
    "Did Peter tell you to say that?" I asked, not buying his apology.  
  
    "No, he didn't. I actually feel bad for doin' that to you, and I wanted to apologize. I would have been fine with it if you could hurt me back, but since you can't, I feel bad." He began to look genuinely upset.  
  
    I glared at him, trying to find any sort of deceit or facade. However, he did look sorry. I could tell because he never looked me in the eye when he tried to convey any emotions.  
  
    "I forgive you." I said reluctantly. "And I'm sorry for callin' you stupid."  
  
    "It's fine." he said. "I guess I'm a little stupid."  
  
    I chuckled. "Ain't we both?"  
  
    He smiled, before sticking his tongue out at me. "Goodnight, Lori." He said, before laying down on his mattress.  
  
    "'Night, Jess." I said.   
  
    I went back to finishing my sketch of Momma. I made her look beautiful, her auburn hair dancing in the breeze, her purple, flower-patterned dress rested around her knees. Momma was always beautiful; I just didn't think she saw it. She was always trying to doll herself up with makeup whenever we went into town, but she didn't need it. She was just as pretty, if not more, than the tulips outside, or the china dolls that sat on the family room's bookshelf. I closed my eyes, trying to remember every time I had seen her smile. Once, when she had seen a butterfly land on Peter's head. Another time, when Jessie had bought her Erasure's Wonderland album, which was her absolute favorite. And then the time I first showed her the picture I had drawn of her sitting at the table, reading a book and drinking coffee. She was so happy, so beautiful. So calm.  
  
    So lovely.  
  
    So joyful...  
     
  


\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
  
     " _Lorelei!!_ "  
  
    I jolted awake; I was still sitting against the wall, and my sketchbook and pencil had fallen by my sides. The sky out through the window was completely black.  _What time is it?_ It was awfully chilly, and my legs were shaking in the cold. Looking up, I saw that Peter was kneeling by me, his eyes wide. Jessie was behind him, peering through the door of our bedroom and down the stairs. They were both trembling with fear.  
  
    Something's wrong.  
  
    "What's goin' on?" I asked.  
  
     _Shh._ Peter said, only speaking through my thoughts.  _Be quiet. Someone's downstairs.  
  
    _ I tensed up.  _Who?!  
  
    _ He didn't answer me; he didn't know. Instead, his head was turned towards the doorway as he tried to see what was going on. Jessie was staring into space, supposedly trying to hear the thoughts of the person downstairs.   
  
     _It could just be Momma._  I thought.  
  
     _It's not._ Peter replied.  _I can't hear Momma, I can't tell where she is.  
  
    _ I didn't know what to do next. I was frightened beyond comprehension, and my hands were quivering in my lap. Jessie turned to look at Peter just as I was; we were both turning to him for direction, hoping that he would have an idea of what to do. He looked back at us, and he was clearly afraid. But he kept a calm face to keep Jessie and I from freaking out.  
  
    Suddenly, there was a crash from downstairs. We all jumped at the sound, and Jessie grabbed my hand in fear. Peter motioned for us to stay quiet, before telling us to follow him. He made his way to the door, carefully peering around the corner and down the stairs. I quietly followed behind him, making sure to avoid the creaky floorboards here and there. Jessie was behind me, his hands now squeezing my shoulders tightly. He reached over and tapped Peter to see what was going on.  
  
     _Shh!_ Peter snapped.  _Stay behind me, and don't make a sound!  
  
    _ Jessie and I both nodded. Peter then began to climb down the stairs, and we followed. I grabbed the back of Peter's shirt, seeking some kind of security in the moment. My mind was racing;  _What's happening? Where's Momma? Who's downstairs?_ I could hear my heartbeat over my own thoughts, and I was afraid that everyone in the house might hear it as well. Peter and Jessie were still wide-eyed and staring down the stairs. It was at this moment that I wished I could hear what they were thinking. They obviously knew what was going on, while I was left wondering and assuming the worst.  
  
    We finally reached the bottom of the steps, where everything seemed as quiet as it should be. Peter's body was blocking most of my view, but I felt him freeze. His stance became tense, and he planted his feet firmly on the ground. I slowly craned my neck to see what he was looking at; searching the room at first, I saw nothing. But as soon as I looked behind the table, my breath got stuck in my throat.  
  
    Momma was on the ground, limp as a towel. Her eyelids were half open, and there was a bloody hole dead center of her forehead. There was also a hole in the middle of her stomach, and the fabric around it was stained blood red.  
  
    She was dead. She was gone.  
  
    Jessie's grip on my shoulder grew tighter at the sight. I completely froze; my hands were gripping Peter's shirt as much as they could. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move... I couldn't even tell if what I was seeing was really there, or if it was just a terrible dream.  
  
    "Who are you?!" Peter shouted at an unseen person.   
  
    I looked further to see a man, dressed all in black. I couldn't see his face clearly, but he looked dirty and mangy. He held a large rifle in his hands, and there was smoke emitting from the barrel.   
  
    Suddenly, he turned the gun towards the three of us. My heart began to rise in my chest, and a wave of adrenaline flowed through my body. "Peter- "  
  
    The man cocked the gun. "Your death sentence, you dumb shit." He aimed the gun at Peter.   
  
    Peter quickly took a step back. "Go! Ru- "  
  
    Next thing I knew, my ears were ringing from a shot, and he was on the ground next to me.  
  
    "PETER!!" I shouted, and began to reach for his limp body in front of me.  
  
    Seconds later, another shot sounded, and Jessie dropped cold behind me.   
  
    Instinctively, I screamed and shrank to the ground. I covered my ears and hid my head behind my knees. My heart was pounding in my chest, feeling as though it might try to escape.  _This isn't happening... this isn't real... wake up!!_  
  
    After a few seconds of silence, I dared to look up. The man was rushing to load his gun again. I could see his pockets stuffed with the money Momma kept in the cabinets.  _A burglar? Just a burglar? What's happening?!  
  
    _ He looked down at me, taking a few steps closer. I tried to push myself away, bumping into Jessie's body as I did. My breath had rapidly increased and my lungs felt cold.  
  
    "I'm sorry." he said. "This was just supposed to be a robbery. I just needed money. I just need money to get high! What's it take to get a few grams here and there?!" he spat on the ground next to me. "I never wanted to kill no one. Gettin' caught for murder puts you in jail for a long, long time, if they don't just kill you then and there. But then, that stupid bitch..." he waved the gun at Momma, "she had to find me just when I was fittin' to leave. Stupid! We're both so stupid! She shoulda just stayed put, an I shoulda worn a mask." He chuckled. "Well, we all make mistakes, right?"  
  
    I continued to stare at him in fear.  _Why is he saying this?_ I thought.  
  
    "I don't plan on making another mistake tonight." He said. And with that, he pointed the gun at me, inches away from my head.  
  
    The panic I felt in the next moments set off a spark in my brain. It was a small one, but it took control of my body.  
  
    "NO!!"  
  
    "Ahh!!" The man screamed and grabbed his ears. "What the Hell?!"  
  
    His scream scared me, and I pushed myself further against the wall. He looked at me, confused, and very, very angry.   
  
    "What the fuck did you just do?!"  
      
     _What_ did  _I do?_ I stared at him, still terrified, but also confused.   
  
    "What bullshit was that just now?!" he said, pointing the gun at me once more.  
  
    Suddenly, an instinct ignited in my brain: I looked the intruder square in the eyes, locking all my concentration on their head. I could hear thoughts... not my own, I assumed they were his. I read every word, every picture in his brain. His mind became a weak puddy when it was met with my own - and I got to work destroying it.  
  
    He responded with screams, grabbing the sides of his head once more and thrashing around. I continued to mold his mind through my own thoughts, crushing everything that was coming from his brain. I could see his thoughts, fearful and in agony. He was afraid he was about to die. He was afraid of what I was doing to him. He was angry that he had been beaten. So many of these panicked emotions were flying around in his head as I continued to tear down the walls of his mind. He clawed his head in pain, screaming and cursing more and more each second, until he could only emit sounds of agony.  
  
    And then he stopped; his eyes opened wide and his hands dropped to his sides... and he slowly tumbled to the floor.   
  
    I shied away as he and the gun hit the ground with a  _thud_ , and I was still trembling in fear. His face terrified me, as his eyes were wide and pained; but his mind was empty. I could feel the space where his emotions had been running wild, frantic and searching for the source of the pain in his head. I could still see his memories here and there, but I knew he was gone. It was just a used brain in a dead body, with fragments here and there of the soul that had occupied it.   
  
    I killed him. I killed him, I murdered him, I tortured him... What did I do?  
  
    But, his eyes... the way they were open and fearful was too obscene. I quickly made use of my newfound power and probed his mind, somehow finding the neuron that closed his eyelids. Now he looked asleep, which was better than before.  
  
    But I still knew that he was dead. I still knew that I had killed him, and that he had killed my family.  
      
    I looked at the rest of the scene; Momma was on the ground, her green checker dress just a bit more red than it was minutes before. Her fingernails were broken and bloody, consistent with the fresh scratches on the man's face. The blood on her forehead from the gunshot wound was now dried, though it had trickled down over her face and under her eye. Peter was crumpled face-first on the ground, and blood was still pooling around his forehead. Jessie was propped against the wall behind me, his eyes slightly open, just like Momma's. His hands were resting gently beside him, and the hole in his forehead was still angry and fresh. Everyone was dead. And everything was quiet.   
  
    Except for my head. Vivid memories of gunshots, blood, and screaming continued to play on repeat in my mind. Tears filled my eyes as I remembered the shock when Peter and Jessie had fallen. I curled my knees to my chest and began sobbing loudly, cursing myself for being completely useless when my family needed me most. Momma was right; I could do it. But why now? Why not when I could have saved them? Why did I waste so much time, so much of everyone's time, running in circles, trying to awaken this power I had inside me... and now of all times, it decides to show?   
  
    It hurt so much, to see them lying there, to remember it all. I couldn't hold back the sobs that choked me. There was just so much...  _pain.  
  
    I don't want this... I didn't want this... I never wanted any of this... Why did it happen? What did I do wrong? This hurts, make it stop...  
  
    _ And it did.   
  
    The more I wished for the pain to subside, the more it did. I started to feel heavy with languor; my mind was getting number and number.  _Am I doing this?_  I asked myself, though I already knew I was. I continued to let the numbness wash over my brain and welcomed the emptiness of emotion. The strain in my eyes from crying subsided, slowly but surely. My soul began to feel weightless, as if the violent scene that had occurred only moments ago had never happened.   
  
     _Is this mind control? Is this what it feels like?_  
  
    Not only could I control others' minds... I could control my own. I could make myself feel nothing. I could completely detach myself from emotion. This was what Momma had wanted for twelve years, what I had failed to obtain for so long... and now, I finally had it. I finally had... control. Over myself, over others. Over anything. But she'd never see what I'd achieved; she'd never know.   
  
    My mind was telling me to cry, as a normal reaction to what had happened. Of course, who wouldn't cry when their family had just been brutally murdered? Who wouldn't cry, when they had been able to save them, but didn't get the chance? When they could have killed the man where he stood, and everything would be alright. Everyone would still be here. However, as I thought these things, I didn't feel tears threatening as they usually would have. I didn't feel sad anymore. I felt... empty. A good empty. A clarity - not in the sense that anything had been revealed to me, just a clearing in my mind where there was no emotion. I couldn't tell if it felt good or not... but it was definitely better than crying my eyes out.  
  
    I didn't have the faintest idea of what to do next. My family was dead, I murdered a man, and I was only a few minutes familiar with my... powers. What would any normal person do? Then again, I wasn't normal. So, what would any telepathic, upset, murderous, stupid fourteen-year-old do? That still didn't give me an answer, but I knew what I couldn't do; stay there.  
  
    I went upstairs to my room, leaving the gruesome scene and its horror behind me. I grabbed Peter's backpack and began stuffing it with clothes, toiletries, and other basic necessities. I took Jessie's diary, a pencil, my sketchbook, and a map of Oklahoma. Lastly, just as I was leaving the room, I snatched a framed picture of my family when we visited Oklahoma City: the only photo where all four of us are present, smiling, and happy. There was no emotional attachment to any of these things (I was keeping my feelings numb until I could get a safe distance away from the house). However, I needed something memorable to bring with me, just in case... in case I ever lost myself in this mind-control crap, and started to forget anything.  
  
    Back downstairs, I began rummaging for anything I could; I took the man's wallet, discarding his ID somewhere on the ground. I also snatched Momma's money pouch; there wasn't much in it, only forty-seven dollars, twenty cents, and a few foreign coins she carried with her. I never knew what they meant to her, but I knew she treasured them, which meant I treasured them. I also snatched a few granola bars from her purse, along with a water canteen on the counter. Walking over to Jessie's corpse, I slipped of his shoes and put them on my own feet. They were four sizes too big, but they were better than the torn ones I was wearing. Either those, or my church shoes, and those were too pretty.   
  
    Taking one last glance around the kitchen, I made sure I had everything I needed. Of course, I was leaving behind plenty of things that would be necessary for a long trip. However, now that I was able to suppress my emotions, my needs... I didn't really need anything. Guaranteed, I still had to eat. But what if I could repress the feeling of hunger? I could go a whole day without eating and end up saving so much time. But whether or not I could block my body's needs as well as my mind's emotions... that was a question for another time.   
  
    And then, deciding that I was fully equipped for the journey, I stepped out of the house.  
  
    The cool evening air welcomed me into a soft breeze. The sound of crickets chirping made me feel nostalgic for home, although I hadn't even left it yet. The laundry was still hanging on the line, fluttering gently in the wind. I tried to savor the smell of the oak trees and honey suckle plants that were growing against the base of the house. Thinking of all of these things, I realized that it would be hard to control my emotions when I was so close to breaking out into tears. A part of me said that pushing the emotions back would free me from emotional ties; I could leave the sorrow behind with the house and the people inside, and go out, experience the world without a burden on my shoulders. However, the last bit of hope I had screamed that, at this point, emotion was the only thing I had left to hold on to. It was all I had that could link back to my family.   
  
    Why would I want that? The only emotion connected to the memories of my family was sorrow and anger. I didn't want that.   
  
    I slowly let my emotions sink to the back of my mind, almost like water running down a drain. The emptiness of my mind made me feel strong. Steady. As if I could conquer the world. I   
  
    I had made it twenty feet from the house, when I stopped.  _Where am I going? What will I do? Who will I run into? What's going to happen to me?_  Fear began to seep into my mind, and I forgot to control my emotion. Everything at that moment was unfamiliar, broken, strange. It was new and unexpected. My family was dead, and I was alone. I was walking into a world so different from the one I had known for fourteen years. What was out there?   
  
     _There's only one way to find out,_ I thought, blocking the fear and anxiety from my head.  _I just have to do it.  
  
    _ I turned my back to the house and ventured down our long driveway. My mind was clear, and ready for the trip that lay ahead of me. I pretended that this was the beginning of my life, and everything that happened from here on out was a new experience. As if I had just been born, and this was the chance to figure out the world for myself.   
  
  


\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
  
  
     _"Also, imagine: what're some of the things you could do once you're able to control yours and others' emotions?"_  
  
_I could use it to hurt people. I could use it to defend myself. I could use it to kill people. I can use it to control people's minds. I can use it to get anything I want. I can use it to control my pain. I can use it to numb my body's needs. I can use it to keep myself from being attached to anything or anyone. I can use it to forget. I can use it to remember. I can use it however I want, whenever I want._


End file.
